Perfect by No Means Nessescarry
by SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan
Summary: A series of poems dedicated to Marik, Bakura, and of course, LittleKuriboh. Read them together, would you?
1. Interlude

Interlude

_**Dear LK,**_

Seems like you've finally been able to grab ahold of my gift. Either that, or you're reading this off or Deviant ART. Most likely the latter, since the odds of me meeting you are just about slim to none right now. But anyway, back to the topic at hand. Recently, you and your characters have been inspiring me to write tons of poetry. Although to be quite honest, two of them have already latched on. And quite tightly. Marik Ishtar and Yami Bakura have gotten themselves stuck in my mind, and they're not gonna get out anytime soon. Not that I mind any. They're nice company, once I get Bakura to stop picking on Marik's unintentional innuendo. And whenever I finally get Marik to put his Rod back in his pants. Oh yes, and leather-They love it, but it's costing me the fortune. *Sigh!*

But that's okay, because they mean a lot to me. I care about them as much as you do, and that's probably saying a bunch. I thought that I would be able to contribute to your fandom by writing you a Fanfic, but I guess that's not working out. So, I've decided to take a route that was more short-term and impulse-based. Poetry. Anime is something I love, and so is poetry; so why not combine the two?

These poems are the result of this idea. I don't know exactly when I started; I don't know when or where it'll end. But I hope these poems speak to you as much as it'll speak to Marik and Bakura. So if you don't mind...would you step aside and let me speak to them?

Love,

Yoshi-chan.

_**Dear Marik,**_

A rebel in your own right is what you are. You were shut out from the rest of the world, had you childhood bled out from you, were condemned to expectations you didn't want to live up to-and yet, you've survived. You're living out **your** freedom based on **your **expectations and nobody else's. That in itself is admirable. If I was old enough, I'd drink to that! Sure you're different, you're perceived as socially awkward, and people stereotype you as being gay.(I'll take you for any way you go.) But you're practically me with a different skin on, and then some. And that's something I love and respect you for. Keep on doing your thing. 'Cause it's yours. Yeah! *Laughs!* And if you don't mind, I'd like you to step aside so I can speak to Bakura for awhile. Yeah, I see you rolling your eyes _Limey-man_! Tee-hee!

Love,

Yoshi-chan.

_**Dear Bakura,**_

I saw you rolling your eyes when I was talking to Marik. You probably think I don't like you too much, don'tcha? Well I'd be damned if I said you weren't important to anything or anyone. You _are_ important, Bakura. You're kinda like Marik's guiding star beaming through your armor of shadows. No matter how much of it is done outta irritation, annoyance, or teasing; you still care. So with that, I'd want to let you know that you're a good friend. The kind that every "different" child should have. And so is Marik. Please take care of each other.

Love,

Yoshi-chan.


	2. Soul Burgers

Soul Burgers

_As read to you by SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan and Marik Ishtar_

By: SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan

Once upon a time

underneath the seemingly shallow skin of a blonde boy

the kid with the pretty violet eyes

ripped right off the sunset,

was a lurkingly selfish creature

of infamous divinity.

Underneath the veins of bullshitted narcissism

And nerves of copper steel

are grafts of the inner skin

slates of human-encoded imperfection

hung upon hooks of hatred

and aged until they're a perfect shade of denial green.

They are

Grilled to perfection

by the haunting infamy

that lives off the addiction

of said pieces;

taking delight in each bite until it's forced to say:

"Mmmmmmm...That's some damn good soul!"

_Fast Forward to the Present Day!_

It is in fact

Tomorrow's

Other

Day

At

Yoke

And

Me, Marik Ishtar and Yami Bakura

Happened to have decided

Apparently

Pleasantly

Perplexingly

Yellowed and mellowed

to try something new.

The runaround we did

was indeed some tough stuff

and we need something new to eat

that's not a huge fuss.

Bakura decides to stay awake

and responsibility he takes:

he drives,

while my excitement looks outside.

"Were are we going?"

"What'll we eat?"

"Is there a playground?"

"How about a bench to sleep?"

The questions tumbled out in an anxious blur,

the cream puff just chuckled and said

"You'll see."

We drove up to the restaurant

to my horror I take in

a mascot, food junkies, and whiffs of burger in the air.

My stomach almost threw

when it saw the drive-thru.

What, did the cows withdraw their self-respect, too?

But to my utmost worry and fear

The sign that was near read:

"Maggie's _Sooooooul _ Food is the Best:

When it comes to competition, we stomp out the rest!"

Well how many souls have they selfishly stolen,

just to feed the gratifications of the junkies that owned them?

Meanwhile Bakura parked, got up and yawned.

He smiled: "I've been meaning to go here for awhile;

they give discounts for friends,

and we don't tip at the end."

I heard the words from a faraway place.

My butt was glued to the seat

I was going No-Place!

Bakura whined(or so I thought)

"Marik, you're wasting bloody time,

we can go in or get the hell out-"

"No! I jumped out my seat with my Rod.

"I'll go." I clutched my Rod harder.

Despite the fact that I meant "No."

"Well, let's go. After you." He smirked at me.

We walked over to the restaurant;

I opened the portal to be embraced

by a cold breath of greasy air.

Waitresses were serving people with gusto and a mellow flair.

We sat down and ordered from

the unique, non-generic menus;

the splashes of artistic color gave it a warm hue.

Bakura got us both Soul Burgers,

while I tried not to puke.

Our plates were delivered to us;

In between two buns sat a whopper of a meal:

yummy pinto beans, spinach leaves,

red onion slices and a tomato.

A melted slice of Mozzarella with a patty stuffed in between.

A salad on the side, oh how refreshing,

already tossed with the right amount of ranch dressing.

"It's chuck: 90% pure beef, 10% fat."

"I don't care." I snap.

"Sorry. Thought that was something you'd need."

"For what?" Picked at my salad, took a bite; scarfed it down in a minute.

Bakura started at me with a wide-eyed sort of look, interested.

He smirked again and said"To eat."

He picked up his bun and took a big bite.

"Mmmmmmm..." He said with all his might.

One chocolate orb cracked in expectancy.

I guess he was waiting for my bathroom Truancy.

But instead, I gulped and my courage took over,

I decided _ "I guess I could take one bite." _

I commanded my hands mentally to "MOVE!"

They quivered; they knew what was impending and near.

I picked up the bun

said "One chomp and I'm done!"

And dove straight forward to see what I've won.

I took that chomp, relaxed (sigh!) and savored.

The pinto beans were sweet, simmered to perfection like life perfect memories.

Spinach leaves like the awesome crisp of summer clover you can always eat.

Red onions and Tomato; a sharp but short-lived reminder of bitter and bloody times gone past.

The Mozzarella: the cheesy glue that blanketed it all together.

And the patty: tangy and full of flavor like life itself.

I absorbed each bite and then realized,

the beef in this burger _is_ pretty vital.

The cows must have lived very full, happy, lives.

My respect towards them grew out ten-fold.

And the satisfied, warm feeling was mine to hold.

_Back Track to the Future of the Previous Narration!_

While the blonde-haired boy was enjoying his Soul Burger

and being "footsied" by his cream puff friend;

His grafts of copper steel

and stolen imperfections

realized that they were misconceptioned.

They could not

Would not

Ra knows Should Not

be slated and hung like emotional dung

in order to be turned into an edible fungus

to feed a hay-wired, gone wrong take on the new definition of inner hatred.

And with that, the grafts were gone,

regrown by a newfound confidence.

The stolen imperfections?

They won the war like a piece of cake.

They got re-encoded and became a part of the kick-ass DNA:

Do

Not

Abolish my soul!

And with that, I return to the urgency of the currency at the human home.

After I finish my burger, I asked Bakura

"Are you gonna finish-"

He pushed the plate towards me and stated "-yours."

At the end of our lunch,

I had remembered each munch:

37 burger savories

29 salad salvages.

Before we walked out the door I asked Bakura:

"Y'know can we eat here the same day...next month?"

~Footnotes~

Hello. It's me, SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan! This poem's dedicated to LittleKuriboh!

Would you read it to Marik and Bakura, please? I think they'd like to hear it.

Your friend,

Yoshi-chan!


	3. Synthetic Ether

Synthetic Ether

_As read to you by Marik Ishtar_

By: SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan

As I sit and listen to the voices

of Disney CGI's

And ribbons of my childhood stream down my back\and kiss my newfound damnation

I wonder: Why?

I looked to my brother with unguarded eyes

Hoping that he would save me with his unbiased arms;

Tug me away from my new installment of misery.

How as I gonna live up to a prophecy

that I didn't want esteemed on me?

Dragged into that room I wondered.

I remember crying

Wishing that I had angel wings

By now I'd be flying

This must be worse than dying!

But now the "worst" was over, I guess.

This whole event has left me rather beset.

Hopes and dreams turned into

Dopey and screams.

All I have is a blanket and Disney to console me.

You think this is funny?

You think this is cool?

Yeah, you better:

Irony dosen't suit every fool.

Well, no matter.

The voices on the screen are becoming quite fuzzy.

The t.v.'s zoning out and it's becoming buzzy.

Then I start to feel it:

The creeping euphoria

of a small essence

that if amplified

could take up a whole Symphourium.

The buzz turns into a warm hum.

My blanket crackles like static,

I welcome it as a blessing.

My stresses lessen as I take in the new lesson

On shutting down and retracting

back from the horizon of

All

Is

Rebuked and therefore lost

into the Common place ground

known as relaxed Sense.

Little drops of Halogen stuck in the air

mesh with the Oxygen-Neon light

in order to form a relaxing lavender looking drug

known as ether.

I inhale it and for a millisecond:

I know the war's just begun

but it feels like I've already won.

And then the smell hits me:

precious metal painted with the copper of vitality

Drawing the heigloglyphs that would seal my life.

And the taste:

Sandy coarseness with the exact same copper tang.

Suddenly I remember the remnants of my childhood trailing down my back.

The good feeling snaps.

I exit the trance that made me want to prance.

Just a hope for rebel skies,

And pathetic cries.

Just another Disney high:

A shot of synthetic Ether.

~Footnotes~

Hey there! It's SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan again!

This poem is based on LK's Take of Marik's initiation! Episode 45 or 46. Enjoy it!


	4. The Truth about Conspiracies

The Truth About Conspiracies

_As read to you by Yami Bakura_

By: SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan

First of all, let me start to confess:

No Government is prefect.

Equality and Justice for all isn't guaranteed.

And all hopes aren't always validated.

If you were to suggest to me an Utopian society,

I'd "Dys" it in a second.

Not all things promised can be kept,

Not all words are always meant.

Human rights will **always** be a fight,

And the bends to the means of a happy end will equal no less.

But for every downfall there is a success.

And yes:

Worst case scenario,

Governments can steal,

might cheat,

and will lie.

They will be corrupt;

and they'll Rock It Like Style;

and keep people from seeing it for more than a mile.

Excuse me if I come off as indifferent;

but if I were to sugarcoat this;

I'd e full of shit like the rest of them.

But Marik, there are two things that can either make, break, or hate the current situation.

Human Accountability and

Soul Responsibility.

Mortals are the "creators" of these so-called foolproof blueprints known as "plans."

Skeletal structures of an organization that societies are supposed to follow.

Flaws are aplenty.

I've picked out a many,

and none of them are completely the system's fault.

Maybe if the human conscious took it upon itself

To account for the soul's responsibility

With the doting cares known as

common sense and compassion,

maybe all these gaps wouldn't be slacken.

But "Ra Fobid" if all else fails:

_Say Something!_

Because somewhere,

out there,

far away from here,

to where someone may "actually" care;

your words might actually be profound,

and your two cents may actually be worth seven pounds.

~Footnotes~

This was inspired a while back while I was remembering when Egypt was protesting for it's independence. This story was inspired also by a pic I saw on this website; I'll link it if I can. That, and the natural kink that Bakura seems to have for being...Bakura. He knows how to be kinda like a guide for Marik while he's still himself. Despite everything about Marik that grates his nerves, he still sticks around and in the end, is there for him. As a commenter put on a fan-art said best: "Bakura must have the patience of a SAINT!"

So thanks Bakura, for being that friend that every "different" kid should have.

~Yoshi-chan.


	5. Individuals by Choice

Together we stand as Individuals by Choice

_As read to you by Marik Ishtar and Yami Bakura_

By: SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan

Believe it or not:

I am not a thought that stands alone.

I have no race, color or creed.

I an a basic human need;

I am an ideology.

I am the one thing that strives against the the conformity

of the hundreds that control the Millions

that hold us back from reaching Billions.

I do not eat the brainwash that is considered the "norm of society"

but instead soak in the knowledge that T**oday** will be a better day

that the pains and sorrows of Y**esterday**!

I am not left out nor forgotten.

I was destined to be the OutKast

of The Blast from the MidKnight Astromony Known as the BlackStar.

Shrouded not in the darkness of social awkwardness but enlightment's fear.

Hear ye, Hear ye,

How you refuse to see me for me!

Well my Face is the only bloody Book you'll ever need!

Dare to read me?

Or are you afraid the normalcy of your false security will be shattered?Battered to death you'll find amongst the still breathing shards a piece of my Prophecy.

Heed the still breathing message

on Life Support.

Before you go out into the world on

Hype Support.

Not forced out, queer, rejects,

Outcasts left to die alone.

Together we stand as Individuals by Choice!

~Footnotes~

Another poem written for LK. The idea for the poem struck me at Midnight on the 31st of July. I had the feeling if I didn't write it then, then I wouldn't write it now. So I did. It was done by 12:17 a.m. I'm typing it, and it is now 9:30 p.m. Not bad, huh?

Gosh, the inspiration just keeps on coming and coming, huh? Maybe I'll send him a book full of these just for him, Marik, and Bakura to read. They'll just love it!

Yoshi-chan!


	6. NIGHTMARE

N.I.G.H.T.M.A.R.E

_As read to you by Yami Bakura_

By: SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan

**N**ight's

**I**nfamy

**G**ets me every time.

**H**ate and

**T**yrannys'

**T**ime to

**I**ndulge is

**M**ine to

**E**nvy.

I hate it not because it's temporary,

but because of the even worse dangers that lurk.

This one in particular comes from

the prettiest murk.

It crawls through the veins of it's innocent host.

Is possession of importance?: Upmost.

Consumption of anything human is a must.

Over-consuming the sadistic abilities of one's mind is _so-in!_

And mind fuckery?

Kosh-posh,

you know it's a win

when it's a whim!

Manipulations' nothing new,

so don't pity me!

I beg of you

not to spare any empathy towards me.

For you see,

I am the master of such tactics,

thousands of years certainly back it.

But somehow, I am the one that is granted the off switch:

how come?

I might be the bravest thief I know

(It's really commendable, the stuff I stole.)

But when faces with something with such a machonistic allure

something flits and nearly quakes:

but of even that I'm not so sure.

I rebuke this knowledge as I sit up tall,

my eyes are strong and steady.

Even my British accent refuses to fail me,

Every night I shut _**HIM**_ down.

The evil recedes,

and whatever's left is up to my own devices.

Damage Control is what some would call it,

But I know it as Marik:

**M**elancholy

**A**t

**R**isk

**I**f not

**K**een.

The blurb of blubbering blasphemy

that's known as my ally.

I take him into my arms and hold him,

shielding his weakest points.

**M**ental

**A**ir

**R**uns

**I**nto

**K**iller instinct.

Kicking and screaming,

crying out cold sheens of sweat.

The monster in his mind is too cruel

to let his (real) teas fall.

_Takes what he can,_

_he'll never give it back._

At least until I find that blessed of-switch that only I was

Unintentionally Given.

With a throaty _"Ssshhh..."_

and a stroke to is lower back

is fit went from full-blown to slack.

Strumming my fingers from his back to his shoulders,

I hummed a rythmn that only he and I follow.

Trembles and shudders turn into something more trustworthy and subtle.

The sweet sounds of earthly pleasure itself:breath.

I guess the envy of it all is that

while I may be the support of

his life-affirming breath;

the one that puts his demons to rest,

It does not attest

that my situation is the best.

I'd much rather be the one

crawling through his veins,

singeing the nerves that not only **cause** him pain

but pleasure for that lasting **effect**.

I wish to posses every small bit in his bloodstream,

Inhale every essence of him from his lifeline.

There will be no over-consumption or manipulation,

just endless bathing in violet seas

and basking in golden-bronze light.

A melody of nasally tinkles and shallow breaths shall be alright.

I hope to be swept away with all of his might.

Reciprocation: That's almost as natural as the instinct of human procreation.

And every shout, every tear, every cry,

will never be from fear or fright.

No such things will be kept near but

Far Outta Sight!

I look down at the now sleeping body resting beside me and smile.

My dreams can wait...

...but only for a while.

**N**eeds

**I**gnite-

**G**hastly

**H**orrors

**T**amed

**M**arik and I

**A**re

**R**esting

**E**asy.

_**...I will be his. **_

~Footnotes~

Inspired By LK's Fanfic: Marik and Bakura go to Censored Town. Yeah. He writes it. EAT IT, FANS!

By the way, I hope you like it! What do _you_ think, Bakura?

-Yoshi-chan.


	7. Intermission1

Intermission #1

By: SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan.

_**Dear LK,**_

It's been awhile, and it's been some stuff. So, how are you? I have a really important question to ask you, and although you don't have to reply, I'd feel a lot better if I got this out.

So...how do you view your characters? Do you view them as just characters, or do you view them as actual individuals? Or maybe differently? Me, I like to think of them as individuals in spirit. They may not have their own bodies, but they have their own thoughts, feelings, likes, dislikes, and even fetishes. Not exactly there; but close enough to human to coin the term, persona. I guess that's why I happen to like them so much.

Anyway, that's enough of that. I have a few questions to ask of Marik and Bakura. Do you think you could step aside and let me talk to them, please?

Love,

Yoshi-chan.

_**Dear Marik,**_

So how are you? You may or may not get a lot of these kinds of letters, so I'll go ahead.

What's it like to BE you? What's it like to be friends with Bakura? If you could teach someone a life lesson, what would it be? How would you do it? And last of all: How many times do you have to be told something(positive or negative) before you believe it?

That's all, I guess. Thanks for listening, and for being yourself. I wish I had a friend just like you, Marik.

Love,

Yoshi-chan.

_**Dear Bakura,**_

So, what's it like to BE you? What's it like to be friends with Marik? Do you "hate" him because you "hate" him, or because you "hate" Melvin?

Or do you see them as the same person rolled up into one and "hate" them both? If you could teach someone a life lesson, what would it be? How would you do it? And one last question: What's your opinion on denial?

That's all for now, I suppose. Thanks for being yourself, and for being a good friend to Marik. You're the friend that every "different" kid should have.

Love,

Yoshi-chan.


	8. Togetherness

Togetherness

_As read to you by Marik Ishtar_

By: SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan

Stumbling up the stairs,

and onto the doormat,

I fumble with the keys from my now ripped pockets.

Shaky hands jab the key into the prepped keyhole.

I shiver, ignoring the memories that the thought risked igniting.

I pushed open the door with a bated breath.

_'Stand steady and strong.' _I tell myself.

As I walk in quietly.

Or as quietly as I could.

I could tip-toe as well

as my tipsy-minded condition.

Even my thoughts were running a mile ahead of me.

_'I need to calm myself down' _

After all, I didn't want the object of unimaginable affliction and affection

to come out and-

"Marik?" I hear a deep voice,

laced a the tongue with confusion

and heavy with sleep.

I freeze.

Not good.

Not, Not, NOT GOOD.

I can't allow him to see me this way.

I hurry up and straighten out whatever I can.

Pull down my shirt,

straighten up my pants,

I reach for my belt only to realize it's not there.

Run my fingers through the

missing strands of disheveled hair.

The light flickered on and it's

the ruby-tinged coppers on me.

They step out,

I step back.

I curse myself for that act.

"What's bloody wrong with you?"

He asks me with a growl.

_'What do you mean?' _I wanted to say.

But something else came out:

"Why do you care?"

"Because I don't want to work with anyone who's too stupid to watch his own back."

He spat at me.

This angered me.

I took two steps forward and and callously called back:

"Me, too stupid to watch MY back?

If you're going to say stuff like that, then it's yours that needs to be watched."

I swung one step forward

and realized too late,

I had shed my shroud of shadow

and have walked into the light.

My earlier fumbling was in vain;

for as far as I could tell,

my "Sin" has come to light.

There's nothing that can fight

the Truth.

Bloodied knuckles dried quickly

on a bronze canvas.

The rouge liquid staining my shirt like red paint.

My hips and midriff clawed wildly

with fervor-like scalpels for nails.

My lips ripped by another pair;

I'm glad instinct didn't leave me there.

Shirt damaged, belt gone,

pant legs drenched in cowardly shame.

My head throbbing from all the pain,

or was it my scalp?

I run my fingers through the oozing grafts of non-existent hair.

_'Not there?'_ My mind says as if it can't make any sense of this.

I open my mouth

take a saturated breath,

and get ready to tell the truth.

But before I get there,

the snide and copper eyes say:

"Well, seems like you had a good time."

"What?" My eyes snap up and wide open.

My neck starts to ache.

I rub where my golden armor is supposed to be.

Instead bite marks are there and I shiver.

"It must've been fun, right?" The copper-ruby angry eyes swagger closer.

White spikes of ferocious hair made itself visible from the spliced lightning.

The pacing starts,

round-and-round in a circle he goes.

"Getting all the attention you totally...deserve."

"My eyes flickered to a dangerous hue

as I leveled him with a threating glare.

"What. Fun." I bit back sarcastically,

but it was a question all the same.

His eyes flashed "instability!" for a moment there,

before he leveled me with his own glare.

A smirk graced his face;

oh how I hated his features!

"Oh...so did you enjoy it, Marik?

Tell me, what was _she _ like?"

He purred.

My eyes iced over.

There was no she,

and there never would be.

"Oh, so was it a _he_, hm?"

The smirk grew wider.

"Well tell me, was he a nice kid?

A pretty boy, just like you?"

The voice started to sound sickeningly saccharine,

a parody of one's most precious girlfriend.

"Did you both make love so passionately that you saw the gates of heaven?"

He stepped right behind me and hissed into my ear:

"Or did he rock your world straight into hell?"

At this point I couldn't take it anymore.

I swung around and slapped him to the ground.

He fell down and hit the floor in shock.

Chock was not his mouth filled with words,

it hung ajar,

agape with the extent of the results of his character rape.

"They..." I started,

then took a deep breath.

"_They_ were not wanted, Bakura."

My head shook side-to-side,

trying to rid myself of the flashes.

"They were not kids,

not pretty,

not there for passion.

_They _ were there to take turns using my body as a vessel

for their filthy desires.

_They_ were there to devour me alive.

_THEY_ were there for my blood,

my sweat,

my tears,

my... my body."

The flashbacks wouldn't stop.

Bakura telling me I looked as ridiculous as jail bait.

Me telling him otherwise.

Then yelling, screaming, throwing insults,

me turning my back on him;

wanting to show that there was no danger in being myself.

But somehow, he was RIGHT!

All this time I had been wrong,

and my spirit has paid the price.

"B-but...i wouldn't let them.

It didn't matter that they wanted to mark me,

I wouldn't let them.

I refused to let them.

So I fought; them all to near death.

Even when they pulled out their blades,

they couldn't get me.."

I murmured.

Tears streamed out of my eyes

faster that the Nile.

De nial...huh.

That sure would be a nice thing to have right about now.

"Marik," Bakura stood up

and carefully paced hi towards me.

"I...I didn't know-"

"Bullshit, Bakura!" I snapped.

My arm flung out to hit him.

"_You didn't know_: Damn Skippy you couldn't!

You never gave me the EFFing chance to explain ANYTHING!

Like the fact that the whole time

I was out there,

I kept thinking about you,

and the kinds of things you would say!

It's not fair!"

My lips begin to quiver.

"It's not fair..."

My emotions consume me,

I fall forward

and Bakura catches me.

Hugs me close by and mutters

his scotch-smelling apologies.

"I'm sorry." He nuzzles his face into my neck. "I'm so, SO, sorry..."

Warm hands guide me,

chocolate fondue eyes mend me.

Cream puff hair cushions the fall from sanity for my soul,

and our forgiveness washes away each other's guilt.

After being bathed in redemption's kisses,

and having all wounds on both sides mended,

lean arms wrap themselves around my exhausted frame.

We fall into the warm slumber in unison.

Togetherness.

**T**onight

**O**nly pain

**G**oes.

**E**verything else

**T**hat matters is

**H**ere.

**E**verything

**R**equited

**N**ow

**E**quals

**S**udden

**S**uccess.

~Footnotes~

Because it can happen to anybody, at anytime, any gender.

Be compassionate and be aware.

-Yoshi.C.


	9. Target of a Rapture

Target of the Rapture

_As read to you by Yami Bakura_

By: SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan

Once upon a time

I knew I was different.

Decided to stop running

and just deal with it.

Once I stood up and expressed myself,

The people called me crazy

and denounced my presence

like an unwanted Christmas present.

I was then ousted and shunned

away from all the other little

boys and girls.

That suits me fine,

'cause over the years

I've accumulated my own special set of toys.

_Fast Forward to the Present Day:_

No matter what happens, I will still be AWAKE:

**A**ware of

**W**hat

**A**lways

**K**eeps eyes

**E**ntertained

Quite as it's kept,

I'm the target of a rapture

that the media hunts down

and then showcases it's captures.

My T.V. tried to devour and spit me out as an extreme.

The computer bombards me with hate mail and a tease.

I've been Bitch-slapped by the radio with Aloe on the side.

Callous words on the block

thrown around amongst the jocks

Like A Joke.

Sometimes I wanna knock 'em out

And call them a Bloke.

Enclosed in one of those opaque entrapments is me.

I look past the looking glass into the eyes of the entranced.

Bigots condemn and censor with their eyes,

while the consensus expose me

with deaf ears and mouths wide.

Stripped of my rights

by what's rightfully mine:

The air I breathe is not for me;

it's saturated with malice and contempt.

I take a sip of water,

I become quarantined

at the risk that I may spread

a _sexually_-transmitted-disease.

In some places it's not guaranteed

that I'll get a meal.

But then again, I guess that's all a part of customer service.

I put people on an edge

that redefines nervousness;

I guess that's why when I stand next to them

I shine of confidence.

Whereas in reality

it's barely tolerance.

And despite all else

with the knocked-down doors

the broken barriers

and the newfound floors;

in our community

there's still lack amongst our own;

so many are suffocating from hiding their souls,

they can't breathe

for they might seep out

what can be easily snatched away.

The lurking mindsets of society

can't help to differ,

they quietly chain themselves back:

Let themselves go lax

in a defense called fear

with a shield of ignorance.

But self-doubt and insecurity

are the worst plights of all.

They don't give a person strength

when you're at your worst.

The messages that leer at us

won't leave me alone:

_Deny yourself the respect you deserve,_

_fall into the mindset that LIVING less means living more._

_Go ahead and press yourself into the medias' mold:_

_play into the game of the "playing feild" fold._

_Become the ammo for the derogatory term_

_that's as expendable as a billion sperm._

_You can't get it,_

_You don't want it,_

_you're twisted and you're wrong._

_You were destined to be cast out_

_you were destined to be hated._

_You can't have it because you can't pray for it:_

_why don't you become a scale of numbers for them?_

But I shake these burdens off-

they won't define me.

Not when I have tons of friends to stand by me.

I will reach for that sky

I will fight for what's mine:

No need to sit around,

we should brawl for a cause!

You may see me split down the middle

between right and wrong.

In perfect retrospect it was always about the hidden truth:

seek first not to KNOW

but to UNDERSTAND.

Everything YOU see

dosen't make ME who I am.

Build a bridge

Cross over,

and shake

my hand.

_...Famous Last Words. Peace._

~Footnotes~

Well, this was quite the poem to write! *Phew!* Once again, thanks to good ol' Uncle Marty for the inspiration.

Well Bakura, what do you think? Is it good enough to read?

Love,

Yoshi-chan.


	10. Intermission2

Intermission#2

By:SuperHyuga Yoshi-chan

_**Dear LK,**_

Hi there! I'd just like to say that you're a very brave guy and that you're a very good writer. Your fanfiction is really good. Maybe you should consider writing original stories. I used to when I was younger, but i'm a little hooked on fanfiction for now. Maybe I'll figure out something someday.

Anyway, I have some more questions for you! Want to hear them?...Okay!

When you were a kid, did you get a lot of the stuff you asked for? well, not asked for, but wanted. Or needed. I dunno, maybe I should elaborate.

Did you get to hang out with your friends a lot, like go visit their houses and play video games and stuff? Did you go to sleep-overs? Have slumber parties? Talk to crushes endlessly on the phone? Read bedtime stories with your parents? Get tucked in at night? Be afraid of the monsters under you bed or in your closet?(That happened to me a lot-Grunty the Witch makes a great monster.) I dunno...I guess my point is, what was your childhood like? I mean, sometimes I think about the stuff, but it's either I'm too late or I'm too afraid to ask or I don't know how!

*Sigh!* Then again, it's not really your problem, and it's not like you're gonna read this...or see it...so I guess it really dosen't matter. Right?

Love,

Yoshi-chan.

_**Dear Marik,**_

I turned 16 on the 29th of September, and I really want to say that you're what made being 15 special for me.

I guess before I had discovered you, being 15 was okay. But somehow, you made it fun and enjoyable for me. It felt nice to be able to connect to somebody like me, except with a different skin on. It was cool. And to be honest, it makes me a little afraid to grow up. I don't want to lose that special connection I've gained through you . I'd really like to meet you someday, and be able to have a nice, long, talk with you. So with that being said: what are your plans for 16?

Love,

Yoshi-chan.

_**Dear Bakura,**_

What's it like to be in "hate" with Marik? Do you get the same mushy feelings that everyone else does, or is it different for you? Or do you think of peace and happy begginings(or endings) when you think of him? I dunno. To be honest, I'm not so sure about my future...

Love,

Yoshi-chan.


End file.
